I'm sitting at the breakfast bar in my Grandma's kitchen. It's summer time and we're visiting. They live in Iowa and we live in Georgia. So our visits always seem short but fun. And I really love my Grandma. She always seems so happy to see me. She does little things to let me know she remembers things that I love like buying strawberries and slicing them up and sprinkling a little sugar over them. So it's morning and I am hungry and she's going to make me breakfast. One of my favorite things that only she makes just right is Cream of Wheat. Something I have learned living here in Georgia for 22 years is that Cream of Wheat is for the "Yankees" as I've heard so often. But I don't care. I really love it. And only my Grandma makes it with lumps in it just the way I like it. So I look over at her and say, "Make sure you put lots of lumps in it, okay?" And she smiles at me and says, "I won't forget." She winks at me and fixes me my favorite breakfast. And this is just one of the many memories that always sticks out in my mind from my childhood. Now every single time I fish out the cream of wheat for breakfast, I think of my Grandma. And of course, I never get the consistency quite right!